


Murasaki

by arixng



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Geisha, Art and Tradition, Cultural Differences, Dino's 28, Eventual Sex, Hibari's 22, M/M, Romance, Showa Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arixng/pseuds/arixng
Summary: Wherein Dino, the beloved heir to a renowned Italian enterprise, crosses paths with Hibari, an acclaimed artisan in the geisha district.
Relationships: Dino/Hibari Kyouya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. 出会い - Deai

**Author's Note:**

> This may be a long project for me and I'm very excited to work on it. I did my best to research on the cultural aspects and depict them as accurately as I can. However, if any inaccuracies come up, I apologize and I ask that you let me know.

Like in the books from his library and the postcards he had leafed through from his fellow colleagues, truly, the earthy tones of the stores and teahouses lined along the cobbled streets of Gion is a fresh sight to gaze upon. The air was different from back home in Palermo, where the winds that carried the scent of the ocean sparked deep sighs. Where he was standing at this moment, the air offered comfort that he never knew he needed, each inhalation healing and therapeutic to his lungs. The historical richness pleased Dino’s senses, yet the stark differences to the culture he had been accustomed to left a slight uneasiness in his core. Although there was a fair amount of people walking along the streets, there was a silence to them that allowed only for occasional whispered murmurs and the heavy dragging of _geta_ along stone. The quiet air of Kyoto spoke loudly of a rigid calmness and propriety, a challenge to Dino’s social graces that at times, weren’t so graceful at all. 

He sometimes pretended he didn’t notice the way locals turned his way, pretending not to stare as an act of modesty with a swift glance. In a town where everyone was clearly born with dark-hair, Dino’s golden hair was a stark contrast that inevitably caught attention. Although the era has welcomed western fashion, Dino’s suit-clad stature currently did not conform in the streets where he had yet to see anyone not wearing a yukata or a kimono. In the back of his mind, Dino thought, if he had donned something less formal that slipped some skin, he would have been a walking offense with his tattoos, a sight that screamed foreign trouble _._

In his young age of 28, built upon years of success in his family’s business and trade, Dino supposed it was improper to be overly-conscious and physically show it with shoulders hunched. Thus, with his chin up and shoulders squared, he looks for the little _ochaya_ his partner had agreed to meet up in. 

He holds up a picture of the ochaya sent to him before he had boarded the ship all the way to here, sent along with a bunch of other pictures, notes, and maps to help him around in case he was shy to ask the locals. The dark-hued walls of a gate that took up a third of the street stood imposingly in front of him, the entrance led by a cobbled trail in the middle of trimmed grass and bamboo ornaments. Confirming that the structure matched what was on the picture, Dino folded the photo and hid it back in the inner pocket of his suit. Sheepishly, he bows upon entrance on instinct despite the lack of a person to see, and he follows the trail leading to the main hall.

The garden was a breathtaking display, nothing lavish like the curiously clipped trees and marbled structures in Italy. But the artistic layers of green with stone carried a peaceful charm. His eyes catch the koi pond at his right, imaging the disaster to transpire if his legs fail him and topple him to take a splash. Grimacing, he faces forward and repeats to himself that he will not make a scene. 

When he nears the main house, a young woman with a face as white as a ghost and lips partially red as poppies appears by the doorway. Upon seeing him, she freezes for a moment until she’s bowing and apologizing with a flustered expression for staring. A _maiko_ , he deduces based on his little knowledge of this side of their culture. Dino, who doesn’t blame her for she most likely did not expect to be serving a foreigner today, motions his hands in a way that meant ‘don’t sweat it.’ She leads him inside, but not before he slips off his shoes by the _genkan_. 

Another woman, similar to the first but with fully painted lips, meets him with a bow and confirms his identity. The pronunciation of his name has turned into something around _Kyabarone._ She leads him into the last room at the hall, the continuation of the garden spanning at the end. If he continued forward and headed right, he could picture the engawa facing the lush greens. Instead, he stood in front of the thin shoji, waiting for the woman who was announcing his company to the people in the room to let him in. 

He hears a familiar merry voice and his eyes widen in delight, his body moving by itself in excitement as he enters the room immediately and nearly trips on the tatami as he does so. Sitting carefree at the center table is Signore Salvatore; with his burly stature --who may have lost a little weight since the last they have met-- he opens his arms for a friendly hug to which Dino happily reciprocates. 

“It’s been _years,_ signore--it’s so good to see you again!” Dino laughs, only now noticing the geisha sitting primly at his side. 

“My, look how fine you’ve grown! Starting to resemble your old man, aren’t you?” The corners of Salvatore’s eyes crinkle, a feature Dino has missed from his busy middle-aged advisor ever since he had left their homeland for his research. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly at his praise, though purposely disregarding the latter comparison. As he takes a seat on one of the brightly patterned cushions, the geisha nimbly pours him a cup of _sake_ , and he nods in thanks when he reaches out to receive it. From the small porcelain cup, he downs the warm liquid, and his brow is subtly drawn from a taste he was not accustomed to. But he allows himself to be served again for he was fascinated by the rich flavor. 

Salvatore introduces him to the fine lady accompanying him for the evening, called by the name of Kikue, and she rings a soft, dainty laugh when he praises her being. He had become a patron for one of the geishas in the ochaya, he says, and Dino wonders how he had been spending his time here in the East. Nevertheless, he is fond of the man and he is genuinely happy to see him so buoyant after having to serve his father’s business for so long. 

They talk and talk, laughing from their bellies as they update each other about their lives during the past years, exchanging jokes and jabs about their fellow businessmen, colleagues, and acquaintances while they weren’t here. As the hands point seven, another geisha with three maikos enters the room, two of them holding a tray of their dinner while one of the latter three brings a shamisen. The older woman introduces herself as Dino’s company for the night, her name Ichika, and she sets his tray in front of him with silent grace. While one of the girls plays her instrument in the background, the other two join their conversation and entertain their guests, their amusement flashing through the twinkle of their eyes and the shy chuckles hidden by sleeves. They feast on their dinner, and with untrained hands, Dino wills himself not to make a mess with his chopsticks. 

At their last bite, the two maikos stand from their _seiza_ and approach the open space of the room. With the shamisen producing a tranquil tone, their bodies dance in a dignified art, their angles and movement delicate and subtle yet spectacular. Dino sighs in peace, admiring a performance honed through years of dedication. He decided that he was very fascinated by their kimonos, the gentle fall and sway of the fabric with the dance nothing short of sublime. When they kneel and bow to their audience, he makes sure to indulge them with an appreciative applause. 

The darker hours of the night creep closer, and the dim lights of the room, added with the potent alcohol and damned time differences, make Dino a little sleepy. 

Suddenly, Salvatore leans closer from the other end of the table and slurs. “I say we wait it out a bit more instead of jumpin’ the gun, y’know? Observe how the other’s fair in the trade?” The older man loosens his tie, perhaps from the building heat from the _junmai-shu_. “Let me tell you though, the conditions are pretty good contrary to popular perception. The country’s market line has been loosening up, but mostly in the favor of the European Union.” Dino nods in understanding, but he does not reply, preferring not to discuss anything business at this hour of relaxation and tipping inebriation. 

Once they’ve decided that it was rude to stay any longer and that it was appropriate to head back to their inns, they bow to their paid companions and thank them for their time. Salvatore embraces him for the final time that night, greeting him a good night before he heads first to the washroom at the back. Led by the maiko he first saw earlier, Dino is guided back to the genkan where he slips his feet back in polished shoes. 

The garden, he notices, is lit by a warm glow. A contented feeling seeps in his chest at the breathtaking sight and he mentally arrives at a decision to come back here. 

A gentle breeze rustles the trees and the shrubs. His hair is tousled and his cheeks start to cool from the cold of the night. He walks down the cobbled pathway and heads for the main entrance veiled by the billowing _noren_. As he was about to push through the curtains, his body collided with another rushing through from the other side, the impact forceful enough for his knees to give and collapse on his bottom. He gasps, the air knocked off his chest as he is forced to support both himself and the body on top of him. Carefully, he opens his eyes, his line of sight adjusting from his muddling mind. His eyes focus on dark, _dark_ hair. Then he meets a pair of sharp stormy greys, thick lashes casting shadows on high cheekbones of porcelain skin. At this beauty, Dino forgets to breathe. 

He’s about to apologize to the _-woman? Man?_ He confirms it’s the latter upon further observation. But the young man’s expression scrunches in irritation, his lips curled and eyes glinting like the edge of a knife. The man pushes non-gently at Dino’s chest to help himself up and forces the other to gasp a second time. Then he straightens himself and fixes his kimono while the blonde stares stupidly from the ground. With one last scowl directed at him, the man rushes along the cobbled pathway, not anymore running but with large strides. 

Dino blinks. Steadily, he gets up on his feet and walks back home, the bright stars and the dim street lights guiding him home. 

With a hunched stance and expression deep in thought, he contemplates whether he had just encountered the most mesmerizing _mirage,_ the raven hair and the steely eyes a fantasy from the deepest and most poignant of his imagination. 

The warmth on his stomach from where the man had sat and the ache from solid touch planted on his chest lingers. From that, Dino convinces himself that he was real.


	2. 悦楽 - Etsuraku

His waking experience was unlike that back home, where he was often woken up by the house help forcing the curtains apart to burn him awake with the sunlight. There was no chirping outside, nor a tray of breakfast by his bedside. He didn’t have his fancy comforters and his favorite pillows -- but the simple futon was surprisingly comfortable enough for him to sleep through the whole night. The most striking thing about waking up in Kyoto, Dino thought, was the soothing quiet that eased his mind and spirit. 

Last night before hitting the sheets, the Italian had experienced his first time in the public bath. Initially, he thought he would immediately find its charm, but he retracted that thought when the fellow guests of the onsen stared at his tattoos when they thought he couldn’t sense them. Although his build was something to be proud of, he could not help but slouch and shrink to diminish his presence. Just when he wanted to go unnoticed, his ineptitude in the areas of poise and balance pull his feet until he’s slipping on the tiles. Pretending as if nothing happened, Dino grabs a wooden bucket and drenches himself over to wash away the embarrassment. 

That particular unfortunate experience aside, Dino can say his first day in the country so far has been splendid. 

And to put the proverbial cherry on top, he had run into what could have been the most beautiful man he has ever been blessed to lay his sight upon. 

He remembers his face vividly. A gut feeling told him that he was affiliated to the okiya, but he wondered whether he shared the renowned line of work. Gender aside, his face was bare of the thick makeup the maikos and geishas painted their faces with. However, his kimono was a deep violet with intricate patterns. Based on his observations, the common man wore far simpler garments with darker colors.

Dino shakes his head, inwardly calling himself a fool for being so easily smitten. Deep inside, however, he knew that he would like to meet him again. 

Today, he was scheduled to meet up with a potential business partner in the same ochaya. He walks along the streets of Shimobentencho and turns a right, following the directions of the map he had ingrained in memory. Then he walks forward Tsukimicho, eyes taking in the details of the shops and houses along the streets and noticing new features he had not seen the day before. He slows his pace in front of a shop with _ukiyo-e_ displayed at its front, intrigued to see the authentic art itself that he had seen occasionally reproduced around Europe. A woodblock painting depicts what was read to be the _kamogawa,_ a river supposedly a twelve-minute walk away from his rented apartment. He should visit there soon, he thought. Maybe on the vacant evening of his Friday. 

Turning left, he is back in Gion, the streets bright and peaceful like yesterday. He arrives in front of the same ochaya, the structure prominent compared to its surroundings. Dino walks through the main entrance, and like yesterday, he is led to the main hall by a different maiko. 

Today he meets with a man by the name of Hidetsugu Mifune, head of the Hidetsugu kigyō, one of the most renowned distilleries in Kansai. When he’s guided to a private room, the shoji slides open revealing said man sitting in front of a low table. Another man sits a seat apart from him, a geisha each sitting to their right. The first thing Dino notices is that they wore suits, a form he has not seen from the locals aside from when he was at the port. 

Abruptly, the two men stand up to greet him and while Dino was in the process of bowing his head, they reach out their hands for a shake, introducing themselves through his cultural customs in consideration of him. Dino smiles in appreciation and he is led to his cushion. A geisha by the name of Marika takes the seat beside him and pours him a cup. 

His eyes are captured by the small plate beside his cup. Two small pieces of confections shaped like a blossom and a peach lay delicately on the porcelain, the pastel colors childish but greatly appealing. It was a shame to eat, he thought, for it looked too pretty for it to simply end in one’s stomach. Despite his reluctance, he picks up the blossom and puts it in his mouth. Surprise flashes briefly on his face at the subtleness of flavors --not too sweet but far from bland-- and when Marika informs him that it’s best paired with the tea, his eyes light up and his heart feels content at the mellow sensation. 

Hidetsugu notices his reaction and smiles. He tells him that, aside from the fine women, the ochaya was well-known for its _wagashi,_ the little confections served with tea. To make things better, the main person-in-charge of the art form was a ‘looker.’ Dino snorts at this and proceeds to eat the peach. 

The intimidation Dino had felt at first had dissipated when the two men were in fact friendly and not at all firm and rigid like he had expected. Nevertheless, Hidetsugu-san carried a refined aura. He was a man of smarts and wisdom with a strong drive for success. He was open and transparent about his future plans and prospects to a man he just met to the point that his partner beside him was shifting on his seat in uncertainty for his boss’s forthcoming behavior. He was pleasing to listen to, Dino thought; though his fluency in the language was challenged as Hidetsugu-san talked quite fast with some advanced vocabulary he had to check on later. From time to time, he would joke with the geishas and hear their opinion as if they were essential to the conversation. Nonetheless, he was captured by his vision, and if he finds that they have a common goal to agree upon, then Dino would be delighted to enter into a partnership. 

At the mention and praise of Cavallone’s Malvasia, Dino could not help the pride bubbling from within. The prospects for export light up his will to win. 

While Hidetsugu’s adviser, Masahiro-san, reaches toward him a catalog of their products, the door slides open.

Dino does a double-take. 

Standing at the doorway is the beautiful man from the night before. Steely eyes widen at the sight of him, but at the presence of others, they quickly narrow and avert from his direction. 

Nervousness gnaws at Dino’s guts for a reason he could not determine. Finally seeing the man in the light, he is enamored tenfold at the features he could see so much more clearly. Today, he dons another kimono of a darker shade of plum with delicate diamonds embroidered. 

He bows at the other guests and steps toward them to remove their plates and replace them with a new set of wagashi. When he kneels beside Dino to set his plate in front of him, the blonde could not keep his eyes to himself as he admires the fair skin that was free of any blemishes. 

“If you keep staring so intently, I might have to charge you extra.” The dark-haired man says, low voice dripping with distaste. A shiver runs up Dino’s spine when a quick glance to his side reveals dark piercing eyes looking right at him. The ends of his lips were curled, knowing and blatant. With the man this close, he swore he was temporarily shrouded by an air of enmity well-kept and hidden in such a small frame. Dino wished to counter with his quick-wittedness but the sight of his long lashes causes his throat to close up. Instead, he merely blinks at the pink glutinous pastry enveloped by a leaf with jagged edges sitting on a wooden plate. _Sakura Mochi_ , he later learns from Masahiro-san. 

The man refills their cups. Then he straightens himself, bows at the guests and his fellow colleagues, and leaves with the tray of used plates. 

At the sound of the door shutting close, Dino exhales a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. 

Hidetsugu produces a fond sound as he leans back on his seat in a carefree manner. “Striking, isn’t he?” He laughs heartily and picks up the pastry with the wooden dessert fork. “The proprietor’s smart to let him move about here.” 

“He’s a geisha?” Dino asks, catching himself from sounding a little too inquisitive and excited. He wondered if he had asked an unintelligent question but he does remember reading about the existence of male geishas in a book once, although vaguely. But the man didn’t wear a generous amount of makeup and the large wig either. 

The older Japanese shakes his head and takes a sip from his cup. “Hibari-kun works with them. But they say he doesn’t like to be referred to as one of them.” Seeing the confused expression on the Italian’s face, Hidetsugu smiles in amusement and continues. “From what I know as a regular, Izanami-san --the proprietor of the Hatsumomo okiya-- took him in and trained him with the maikos. Initially, he was supposed to stay at the back crafting the wagashi. But he soon became the interest and intrigue of the customers.” He paused to take a bite from his mochi.

So he must be the renowned ‘looker’ Hidetsugu mentioned earlier, Dino recalls. 

“Hibari-san’s very skilled in making wagashi. Even _we_ try to learn from him in our free time, _ne?_ ” Mariko joins in the conversation and tilts her head at her fellow geisha beside the two businessmen. The two ladies nod in agreement and add to the praises. “As soon as Izanami-san frequently received questions about him, she let him work around the ochaya as he pleases. As long as he doesn’t scare away the customers, of course.” She giggles at her ending remark and somehow, Dino understands. 

Studying the carefully plated rice cake, Dino imagines long, thin fingers shaping the desserts into their soft and dainty forms. The blossom and the peach from earlier come into mind, and he wonders how such a man of overwhelming aura and friction could produce something so delicate. He picks up the fork and pierces through the center revealing the deep-maroon of the _azuki_. Hesitantly, he brings the fork to his mouth and eats. 

The softness rests on his tongue and he almost doesn’t register the flavor until he bites through, the chewiness delightful together with the mellow sweetness of the red bean paste. The faint hints of the cherry blossom aroma merge the gratifying sensations into harmonious completion. 

Dino drinks from his cup for the perfect finale to the treat and sighs. 


End file.
